Compassion
by Zela
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale go to Tadfield. Pepper watches.


I wonder how all you guys wrote your 1st fanfic? Well, this one occurred when I read the book then I my friend showed me this site then I read some of the fanfics here and then I thought 'cool, but I'm not going to do that' then I had slightly too much of my favorite recipe (Sugar, you heard of it?) then I got all sentimental and then I wrote this. That would have been end of story. No one would ever have seen it. BUT... then I invited my friend over and we both had too much of my favorite recipe and I let her read it and she said it was good so I agreed to post it and when we were both sober and I said no I can't post it it's not finished she said finish it and if it's not on fanfiction.net within two weeks something very bad is going to happen. Nothing's happened yet, but I feel kind've morally obliged to post this. I HATE my conscience! Anyway. There was no point to that except to say 1) give me sympathy and 2) if anyone wants a good recipe, just ask. (There is actually a recipe called Sugar!)  
  
  
  
Pepper walked inside and stared at the wall thoughtfully for a few moments. She was seventeen years old now, and had rounded out into a decent figure. Well, not really rounded out. She was actually shaped rather like a stick, and she still had quite a few knobbly bits and left-over patches of bark.  
  
Still thinking deeply, she walked into the kitchen and sat down. Her mother was at the stove, cleaning it or doing whatever it is mothers do. Even after all this time, Pepper still wasn't sure.  
  
"Those two men were back at Anathema's," Pepper stated, not so much to her mother as to the air in general. "You know, the pretty one with the blond hair and the blue eyes and the dark-haired one who always wears sunglasses."  
  
"Really?" said her mother disapprovingly. Pepper wasn't entirely sure what her mother thought the men were doing, but after the first time Pepper had told her about them she had gone into a huff and refused to let Pepper talk to Anathema again. She had discussed the matter at some length with Pepper's father, and Pepper had overheard phrases like 'a married woman!' and 'it's not as if she's short of money!' and 'it's a disgrace! Having that in the neighborhood!' Now whenever Pepper did talk to Anathema it had to be in secret.  
  
There was silence for a while. Then Pepper said, "You know, I think the dark-haired man is in love with the blond one."  
  
"Oh?" The tone of voice was even more disapproving. "And how do you know that, hmmm? Are you psychic, little Miss. I-know-people's-emotions-better- than-you?" Pepper winced. The memory of that argument was still painful.  
  
"No-o-o," Pepper said slowly. Her mother humphed and went back to her work.  
  
Actually, Pepper wasn't sure what had made her think that. It wasn't like he was kneeling in the street offering a bunch of roses and spewing soppy poetry. There wasn't really anything in his manner which suggested the two were more than good friends. Except -  
  
Except the casual touches, the brush of a hand, the incidental little rubs and pats. The way he sat next to him on the park bench, not too near but not quite as far as normal. The way his face filled with pain whenever the blond one wasn't looking.  
  
But most of all, it was the way his eyes ran over the blond one's face and body whenever they were talking, not concentrating on the phrases but rather the voice, lips parted slightly as though to the say the words that would both free him and doom him. He was like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, both longing and dreading the fall. And then he would catch himself, realise where he was standing, what he was about to say. And he'd take the words and lock them deep inside of himself. Pepper had seen that little scene happen again and again. And it was only when the dark-haired man had resolved not to say anything that the blond haired man seemed to notice anything was wrong. And he'd look at him with concern, ask him if anything was wrong. That was when Pepper had the most respect for the dark haired man. Because he'd just look at the blond one, drink in his features, then smile sadly and shake his head.  
  
Now that she actually thought about it, she wondered why the dark-haired man didn't just tell the blond one how he felt. Then again, she had a feeling it wouldn't work out. She could see the sparks that flashed between them, the chemistry - so could the dark-haired man, as a matter of fact. But she was certain now the blond one just couldn't feel it. After all, why should a fish notice the water it swims in?  
  
And the blond one would try to understand. He may even try to force himself to feel the same way. Pepper could tell that he was that kind of person. But, deep down, he wouldn't feel the same. He just wouldn't, couldn't tap into that sea of raw emotion that lay seething just below the surface. It wasn't his fault. It was just the way he was.  
  
Pepper sympathized deeply with the dark-haired man. More and more she was understanding what he was going through - and why he'd go through it a million times over to hold on to the angel-faced man he so obviously adored. After all, she had gone through the same thing herself.  
  
It had started with Adam. They had always been good friends, and over time friendship had evolved, changed into ... something else. At first, she'd barely been aware of it. Then, gradually she came to understand and then accept the new emotion that had sprung up within her. She had fallen in love with him.  
  
Of course, Adam didn't know. He couldn't really. It was beyond his understanding. Part of the problem, Pepper now realised, was his inability to change. He had wanted everything to stay the same, even when something better came along.  
  
For a number of years she had managed to conceal her feelings. For a while she was content with friendship. Then, finally she made the ultimate mistake.  
  
It started with a little thing, really. They had been watching a movie - all four of them, of course. At that stage, the Them still existed. Someone - the hero probably - had kissed the heroine. It had been a Hollywood kiss, with all that implies. Although he didn't want it to, puberty was gradually exerting its hold on Adam, so he was becoming slightly more interested in these types of things. Interested enough, at least, to not bite the head off whoever suggested watching the movie. Anyway, after the kiss, Adam had said without thinking, "I wouldn't mind doing that some day."  
  
When he said it, he'd been looking at Pepper.  
  
From that time on, Pepper did her best to catch Adam's attention, doing all but ripping her top off. And it seemed to her that her that her efforts were rewarded. Adam seemed to be noticing her!  
  
She couldn't have been more wrong.  
  
Eventually, buoyed up by her hopes, she had approached him about it. She had told him, in simplest terms, that she loved him.  
  
The expression on his face - Pepper would never forget it. It had been mingled horror, confusion, fury and ... fear. He had shoved past her, shouting that it wasn't meant to be like this, crying and screaming. She had never seen him again.  
  
After that, the Them gradually drifted apart. Adam was never there any more, and Pepper knew the boys blamed her. She had taken to spending more and more time with Anathema.  
  
Pepper remembered again the expression on the dark-haired man's face as he looked at the blond man. He understood. He knew what would happen, should he tell his friend the truth. And he would rather have friendship than nothing at all.  
  
Pepper was happy for him. He may not have what he wanted, but at least he had this. She just wished she could have understood all this before she had ruined her chance at happiness.  
  
Sighing, she got up again and walked towards the door. She needed some fresh air. She needed a chance to forget Adam, to forget the two men. To forget life.  
  
Slowly she made her way down to the common. Years of sneaking up on animals made her walk quietly, and so when she walked up on the two men sitting on the riverbank neither of them noticed her. Of course, they were so absorbed in each other they probably wouldn't have noticed her anyway. They seemed to be talking about something very serious. Remembering what she had been thinking before, Pepper flushed in embarrassment. She was about to say something, then thought better of it. Quietly, she turned and walked away.  
  
She was going to leave. She was going to go home and forget about seeing them. She really, honestly was. But just at the last moment something made her turn around, duck behind a bush and watch.  
  
She couldn't hear what they were saying, of course, but it was obvious there was something in the wind. Trying not to blink so she wouldn't miss anything, Pepper squinted, wanting to catch every detail.  
  
The dark-haired man had taken the blond one's hands in his own, and was looking earnestly into his face. He had removed his sunglasses, something Pepper had never seen before, and there seemed to be something wrong with his eyes.  
  
His lips were moving. He was saying something. Pepper wasn't sure what, but he was pouring his heart and soul into those fragile words.  
  
The blond man's expression was slowly changing. The contours and lines - Pepper knew she had seen a face like that before, a mask that had dropped, a conflicting tide of emotions. Where?  
  
Like a flash, Pepper remembered. And suddenly, with a foresight disturbingly similar to woman from the past who, amazingly, had absolutely no relation to her, she knew what was about to happen.  
  
No! she mentally cried. No! Don't do it! Don't let it be like this - I thought you were smarter than that. Don't you know what will happen? But it was too late.  
  
A vague half-smile had appeared on the blonde's face, as though looking for the joke that wasn't there. Then a furrow appeared on his forehead, as he realised there was no joke. Finally dismay and alarm shone for a brief instant on his angelic face as he realised what exactly was being asked of him.  
  
Horrified, he stood up. He didn't say anything, just stood there, blue eyes staring, unable to even speak. Slowly, carefully, the dark-haired one stood as well and reached towards him, unspoken words shimmering on his lips.  
  
Without even thinking, it seemed, the blond one stepped back, flinching away from his friend's touch.  
  
Pepper knew then that her partner in forbidden love had lost.* There was no hope, no chance. He had burnt his bridges, but he could not go forward. He had no choice but to watch the flaming bonds to his sanity and soul blaze.  
  
Slowly, the dark one turned away. With a start, Pepper realised he was dark. All the light seemed to have left his face, and his features had sharpened, turning into a hard mask. The blond one started to speak but the dark one raised his hand sharply, curtly dismissing whatever he had to say. A sneer of self-contempt marring his face, he turned to go.  
  
As he passed her hiding place, Pepper saw that he was shuddering uncontrollably, caught in the throes of a deep emotion. It was the only sign that he cared. All his humanity had been washed away.  
  
Pepper threw a glance at the blond one. There was an expression of deep sorrow and helplessness on his face. Pepper pitied him. He seemed to be the epitome of all that was good and kind in this world, but he could not seem to understand a simple human emotion. He did not understand love, and so he could not return it. And he did not know how to ease the pain of the one who loved him.  
  
Or had loved him. Looking at the uncaring expression on the face of the dark man, Pepper could no longer be sure. Until she heard whispered words floating back on the breeze.  
  
"Don't look back. Don't look back. From the man who looks back, the Gods take one eye," was being endlessly repeated. Pepper suddenly smiled, giddy with relief. He did care! For some reason it seemed very important.  
  
Once the man was out of earshot, Pepper got up and brushed herself off. The blond man was sitting on the grass, a vacant expression on his face. He wouldn't notice her. It was time, she decided, to make things up with her mother. Sparing one last pitying thought for the angel on the river-bank, she ran off towards home.  
  
And didn't look back.  
  
Standing very still, Crowley listened to her go. He had sensed her presence as he passed, and had waited to see what mischief she was going to cause. Apparently, none. Briefly Crowley considered planting marijuana on her to accentuate her mother's anger, then changed his mind. He didn't know why, but he felt a strange kind of bond with this girl. It was almost as if they had shared a common feeling. But no, that couldn't be it. No-one could feel, could understand the pain he was feeling now. He had no idea what had made him blurt out his feelings on the riverbank. It had just seemed so perfect. The green grass, an unusually clear sky, Aziraphale -  
  
Angrily, he pushed thoughts of the angel - monster - out of his mind. It wasn't hard. His rejection had changed him. He didn't feel things anymore, except for pain. He was hollow. All the feelings - all the life had been sucked out of him when Aziraphale - forget the name! - when that thing on the riverbank had flinched back, stared at him like he was a freak.  
  
This is what Crowley told himself, firmly. And at first it had been true. But when his mind had come into contact with that girl's...  
  
There was something else growing inside of him, something new. The Trouser Legs of time had appeared, and the seedling of hope had sent Crowley down the right, although maybe not the Right, leg. He had changed, and a calm was with him. Aziraphale would never again be a part of his life. It was how it was. But he had to live with that. And somehow, he would.  
  
Whistling softly to himself, the not-demon walked on. Suddenly, he remembered something. The second half of a phrase that he thought he had lost long ago. Slowly, he said, "From the man who looks back, the God's take one eye." Smiling gently, he turned and looked back at the angel, his angel, delicate and soft and bewildered and lost, white skin, golden hair, depended upon and dependant upon. One last look... Content at last in his understanding, the not-demon, a new breed, turned and continued walking back to his Bentley. Carefully, he repeated the last half of the mantra.  
  
"From the man who does not look back, the God's take both."  
  
  
  
*Not that way you sick bastards. I meant that both of them had the bad luck of falling in love with someone they shouldn't. That's all. That's ALL! ............. I wonder how Crowley and Pepper would do as a couple... Oh Gods! Look what you've done! 


End file.
